


The name's Evelyn Trevelyan

by amarmeme



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Evelyn is a talkative drunk, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Misunderstandings, as it always does who am I kidding, drunk talk, smut will come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-07-18 17:49:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7324729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amarmeme/pseuds/amarmeme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Corypheus is dead and the inner circle's gonna party! Evelyn sneaks off and Cullen finds her out on the wall by his tower. She's clearly a talkative drunk. </p><p>Or... silly drunk talk.</p><p>Now with a part two and soon to be part three. The story continues... Evelyn and Cullen work out their missed connection. Rating has changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For a quizzie that never managed to romance anyone, but always had a crush on a certain someone.

The Inquisitor, her inner circle and most of Skyhold celebrated the defeat of Corypheus by getting absolutely smashed. The wine flowed, Maraas-Lok was choked down by a brave few, and casks of ale were emptied nearly as fast as they were breached. During the night, Evelyn disappeared from the great hall of the keep. As the most sober companion, Cullen was dispatched to find the rogue. The commander had a feeling he’d find the woman near his tower, likely humming some tune while spinning a dagger absently.

She was indeed where he pictured her, out on the wall beyond his quarters. Instead of standing though, she sat on inner wall and loomed over the courtyard. Cullen ambled over the gateway between the main hall and his tower, not worrying now that she was found. 

“I could jump off this and be totally fine y’know,” she slurred. He had walked up behind her quietly, yet she still heard him approach. 

“Inquisitor, I don't think that's wise.”  

Evelyn waved a hand back towards him. “Oh I've done it before. _All_ the time. Some kind of Skyhold magicky thing. Can’t do it anywher’lse. Hurts.” He shook his head and smiled. 

A moment passed before she spoke again, and in a much clearer tone. “I'm always hoping you'll say it.” 

“Say what?” Cullen moved to stand next to her and leaned forward on his elbows, hands clasped over the edge. 

She scoffed as if he was the one who was failing the conversation. “ _My name.”_ She looked over and caught his eye. “It's Evelyn you know. Evelyn Trevelyan. My parents were soooo clever.” She furrowed her brow and spoke gruffly. ”Last daughter? Oh, sod it.” 

Cullen chuckled at her attempt to mimic a man’s voice. “Of course I know your name.” 

“Mmmmm in my head you say it. Alllll the time.” She leaned backwards, fingers gripping the stone by her knees, and looked up at the stars. Cullen realized she wasn’t wearing her jacket in the chilly mountain air. In fact, she was down to an undershirt and quite cold by the look of her goose-pimpled arms.   

“Are you shivering? Where's your shirt?” 

She groaned. “It was hot and so tight. S’over there.” She lazily gestured behind her where there was no clothing to be found. Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose and after taking a deep breath, took off his surcoat. 

He placed it over her shoulders, then hopped up on the wall to sit with her. “I’ll be in trouble if you fall ill on my watch.”

Evelyn winked then smoothed the fur like one would pet a house cat. “That's nice. Tit’so weird tho. Didn't think it came off.” She leaned over and flicked her middle finger against his metal plate. “ I bet there's armor under that armor.”

He laughed. “What?”

“Like, you know --strip you down and then _poof!_ there's suddenly more armor? Never ending layers of armor.” She mimed throwing piece after piece of clothing over their shoulders.

“That's--” He rubbed the back of his exposed neck absently. “You’ve watched me lose to Josephine at Wicked Grace.” He eyed her suspiciously. “This isn’t just your method of teasing me still?”

“Mmmmm nope. Was drunk. That could’ave been my 'magination.” The rogue spun to sit towards him, straddling the wall. Cullen wasn’t sure how she could remain so steady despite how clearly intoxicated she was. Before he could listen to his better judgement and pull her down, she shook his shoulders. “Proooooove it!”

He shook his head and held back a laugh. “I'm not going to remove my clothes, Inquisitor.”

“ _Evelyn,_ ” she teased.

“I'm not going to get naked, Evelyn.” She was quite a handful, though he couldn’t fault her enjoyment. She’d taken so much on in the last year, and now it seemed, her efforts had paid off. A night of drinking and teasing him was hardly enough to cover the debt all of Thedas owed this woman. A debt that no one but her would truly understand.

Her eyes were bright and liquid as she leaned forward more and plucked at the fabric on his thigh with her marked hand. It flared a little in the dark, coating him in green. “Just a leg! Or your stomach?” She waggled her eyebrows.

Sighing as if greatly inconvenienced, Cullen pulled up his tabard and undershirt revealing part of his abdomen. “There. No armor underneath. Are you satisfied?” He enjoyed the way her eyes lingered at the spot. After getting enough exposure to the crisp air he put everything back to order.

When he looked at her again, Evelyn was subdued, staring up at the stars. Her fingers tapped on the stone wall, and she worried at her cheek. “Why can't I get through then?” Her voice was small and uneven.

“Get through?” He didn’t understand what she meant, which was hardly a surprise at that point.  

Within an instant she was happy again, the teetering emotions of a drunk. “Bah, no one likes a crying _winner_. That's what they say. Here I am top'o'the world, bear on my shoulders, handsome man.” She raised her arms up over her head and shouted. “World'sokay!” She looked at Cullen and grinned. “I _was_ pretty good wasn’t I?” She winked like a lecher and he laughed.

“That you were. We’re-- I’m proud of you.” He squeezed her hand. 

She squeezed back. “Thanks, Cullen. I mean it. Now, help me stand? Think I might've drank _too much_. Damn Bull and his dragon booze.”

Cullen hopped off the wall and helped her down, though he could tell she would have been fine without. His hands lingered on her hips and for a moment he thought about sweeping her hair back and kissing her. Then he remembered the last ten minutes and how she’d never be able to recall it in the morning. Kissing her would have been a terrible idea.

“To bed?”

“Yesssss.” She squealed and darted out of his grasp. “Walk me back?”

“Whatever you ask.” He waited a beat. “Evelyn.”

Her smile was so wide and earnest at the sound of her name that he couldn’t help return it. Why he’d never walked her back to her door before was beyond him. Why he’d never actually kissed her was too. He planned to remedy it soon. Tomorrow. But not too early. She was going to need to sleep this one off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I conveyed a happy/introspective drunk. :D We've all been there. Or, well, maybe most of us.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I may have had a 6k draft continuation of this story and figured, why not? 
> 
> First part picks up before the previous chapter, to give you a little headspace for where Evelyn is at, then the rest follows sequentially.

The sky beyond the Frostback Mountains was swathed in warm reds and oranges, the sun having dipped below the horizon minutes before the Inquisitor stepped out on her balcony. She felt as if she was looking down on the world, a station most would say was fitting for the valor and bravery she’d shown in her fight against Corypheus just earlier that day. Evelyn was conflicted though, feeling both proud and humbled, peeling off the battered armor that had seen her through so many fights.

It was the end of the greatest chapter of her life, and Evelyn was alone as she had been at the start.

The fight against Corypheus frustrated her to no end. Corypheus kept taunting her, red lyrium arching out of his fingertips and splattering the rocks with a crackling hiss. Satisfaction was the sight of him crumbling at her feet, the orb responding to her alone. They’d killed his dragon, she’d ended Corypheus. But what would could next would be almost more difficult. Solas had already left without a passing goodbye. How long would it be before the rest of her friends and companions scattered across Thedas?

 _I suppose I should go down and join before they have a chance to go_ _._

Picking up her armor with care, Evelyn returned inside, closing the balcony doors with a swift foot. She would tend to the vambraces and leathers in the morning -- she did not want anyone to remark on her being gone for too long. Today was for celebrating, and she did not want to damper that. Her friends did mean the world to her, and because of them she’d been able to save the world.

She pulled on a pair of soft breeches, worn with use but still her favorites, and combed through her hair with her fingers. Tired and altogether drained, she pinched some life into her cheeks. Evelyn couldn’t help but picture her mother doing the very same thing to her, trying to pass off her youngest child as eligible, desirable for marriage. At least now mother needn’t worry about that.

A knock on the door disturbed her melancholy stupor. “Are you there, Inquisitor?” It was Josephine. Nothing missed the ambassador’s attention. Certainly not the absence of the Inquisitor during a celebratory feast.

“I’m coming Josephine.” Evelyn took one last look in the mirror, shook her head at the bags under her eyes and went to embrace the night.

 

* * *

 

Evelyn’s head was pounding, and she knew exactly who to blame. It was a combination of Bull’s drink and Varric’s card game that had kept her up so late into the night. While she didn’t regret it, she still wished she would have drank more water as Josephine had advised. There was a reason that woman was part of her counsel -- she did have good sense.

“How’s the head there, boss?” Bull’s deep voice reverberated through her, and Evelyn suppressed a groan.

“It would be better if you could stop shouting,” she intoned.

Bull laughed, loudly, and slapped his thigh. “We did kill a dragon last night, boss. You should have known the Maraas-Lok was coming.”

“Expected it. For the pain that knows no end. She wanted to drown it away, for them. All of them holding her up too high.”

Cole had appeared by the fireplace, as sudden as always. Bull’s eye narrowed in on Evelyn and she looked down at her breakfast. She cleared her throat, thinking she was going to have a word with Cole about staying out of her head again. Especially when she was hungover.

“Come on, Kid, Tiny. Leave Blades alone. Not everyone can have a Qunari-like constitution.” Varric slid next to her and asked under his breath, “You all right?”

She gave a nod and resigned sigh that said anything but, and pushed herself up from her seat. “I should to see if there’s still any inquisitory things left to do today. Headache be damned. Anyone seen Josephine?”

“This morning she was heading to her room, shirt all rumpled.” Bull said.

“Not Ruffles?” Varric pretended to be aghast.

“Something tells me she hit a wall last night.”

Evelyn scraped her chair back across the stone floor, wincing at the noise. She couldn’t help but laugh at Bull, despite how much worse it made her head feel. Cole was looking a bit perplexed, and she cuffed his shoulder and gave him a smile. They were such a good group of people, and she hoped it would stay like this for a little while longer.  
  


  
Josephine sat at her desk, quill in hand, shirt quite in order and head down. She hadn’t noticed Evelyn walking in, or standing in front of her. It must have been an all-nighter for the ambassador too.

“Josephine?” Evelyn waved her hand in front of the Josephine’s face and snapped her fingers. The woman sat up fast, color going to her cheeks just as quick.

“Inquisitor -- I --,” she stammered and pulled her falling hair back into place. “You should not have found me like this. I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you sleep in? No one would have minded you taking a little respite today.”

“I could say the same for you, Inquisitor. But there’s work to be done still.” Josephine was poised again, and pulled up a stack of paper to show Evelyn. “See these? They’re all the agreements made for the Inquisition that have conditions upon Corypheus defeat. While I was optimistic you’d succeed, I admit that I am not as fully versed on these conditions as I should be.”

“There were conditions on us saving the world? That hardly seems right.”

“It’s nothing too drastic, or we’d have not signed them and found another way. But there has to be a proper dissolution of the Inquisition. Many were worried about how powerful we would remain after the fight, and wondered how much you’d use that power to make changes.”

Evelyn’s expression dropped a little at the world dissolution, though she knew Josephine was right. There would be concern about the power she -- they -- wielded now that the rift was closed. The Inquisition had the support of so many nations, countless nobles, and the people of Thedas. Those ruler and leaders were sure to be antsy about what the next step was.

Josephine’s voice softened. “I know that you have grown to care about the Inquisition and all its people, but don’t worry too much, Inquisitor. We still have work to do that’ll keep many here.”

“What do you have in mind?” Evelyn was up for anything to keep her busy. To keep everyone together as long as possible.

“It is an idea that I have had for some time now, though I haven’t had the time to put proper thought to it yet.” Josephine sounded a bit nervous.

"Naturally,” Evelyn conceded. “We did have to worry about surviving first.”

“Yes, that’s quite right. As you well know, the Inquisition was originally formed to stop the fighting between the mages and templars. We did keep them from boiling over into catastrophic war, but only because the threat of Corypheus kept us from seeing our original remit to fruition. As you can imagine, there is still fighting breaking out in pockets across Thedas. It could be a multi-step plan, Inquisitor. First, we deploy our forces to quell those skirmishes peacefully, satisfying the nobility whose land is yet disturbed by in-fighting among the Chantry’s charges. Then we shift our approach, using our numbers for purpose of aiding those affected by both the mage and templar war, and Corypheus’ actions. Surely, with this message of charitable good it reminds our allies why the Inquisition was first formed and provides the Chantry with a platform of reconstruction. The Chantry could use the boost of credibility in this time and by shifting to that of a charitable construct rather than a siege engine, we’ll have more time to do good before our hand is forced.”

“Do you really think we’ll have our hands forced?”

“Oh undoubtedly, Inquisitor. It will take time for the nobles to organize, particularly in Orlais considering they cannot even settle their own domestic disputes. But perhaps this will provide us more time.”

It wasn't an unappealing plan. Actually, it was one that Evelyn felt good about. The opportunity to help people, instead of just slaying red templars, Venatori and whatever other fiends Corypheus had cooked up, appealed to her very much. “What do Leliana and Cullen think about this?”

“You are the first to hear of it.” A sudden realization dawned across Josephine’s face, and color rose to her cheeks again. Evelyn smirked at the lie. Someone recently had heard this idea too, and she could guess who. She let it go, deciding to let Josephine recover from her hangover before teasing her too much.

“Call a council meeting then,” she said instead. “But let’s both get some more sleep first.”

  
  
The four of them met that evening after dinner. Leliana hid a smile behind her drink, having heard Bull’s tale of the rumpled ambassador only minutes before. Josephine had gone red yet again as Sera tried to elicit a high five from Blackwall. She did not succeed in the slightest, yet proceeded to congratulate him anyway with quite the elaborate praise of the lady in question’s bits. It did not go over well, but the rest of the inner circle was in stitches over the event.

“I can tell you are still smirking at me Leliana, but it’s time for business.”

“Is that what you said last night? ‘It’s time to get down to business.’” A quill flew in Leliana’s direction, but she easily avoided it.

Cullen cleared his throat. “Let’s get this on with it." Leliana threw the quill back at him. He deflected it easily and the quill scattered beneath the war table. Sighing, Josephine went to retrieve it, shaking her head. Cullen stared at the table, the pieces still in their final formation.

“Yes, I’m still tired and would love to turn in early,” Evelyn said, yawning. “Tell them what you told me, Josie.”

She launched herself into presentation mode, with excited, wide eyes and a fast tongue. “We need to decide how to proceed with the Inquisition now that the rift has been closed and Corypheus defeated. I have looked through the conditions laid out by our allies and it seems that what I am about to propose would not conflict with any of the terms outlined, though we may need to... massage a few aspects. But, I think we are well situated to transition our Inquisition into a relief effort. We have deep connections now with many nations and noble families, and can help healing where others cannot. We’ll continue to unite for the benefit of Thedas, but with caring arms, not those of warfare.”

Leliana smiled softly, yet Cullen was as sullen as she’d ever seen him.

“Josie, I don’t disagree. However, I need to return to Val Royeaux as soon as my spies are all fully compensated.

“You’re not planning to let them all go?” Evelyn frowned. Surely Leliana would wish to see the Inquisition still fully informed.

“Of course not, but as soon as I can settle things here and name a replacement, I must leave. I’m still trying to convince Cassandra to join me, at least for a time.”

“How long?” Evelyn said quietly. Cullen turned to look at her, his dour expression turning slightly sympathetic. “How long before you leave?”

“A month, maybe two? There are quite a few of my agents in the Hissing Wastes. It always takes too long to reach them.” Evelyn swallowed, hard. A month? Or two?

“Again, we could start down the path of relief tomorrow if we wish,” said Josephine.

“A relief organization does not need a commander.” Cullen finally spoke, a tinge of anxiety in his tone. Evelyn thought he had been waiting to say this out loud for a long time, perhaps in not so many words. He'd found a place in the Inquisition just as Evelyn had.

“Not necessarily in the same capacity,” said Josephine. “But what we do need is someone to lead our efforts and our people.”

“Wouldn’t that be the Inquisitor's job?” Cullen moved the pieces on the war table with the swath of his hand. He picked up one and fiddled with it instead of looking at Evelyn.

“Not necessarily, though that would be something the Inquisitor would need to decide.”

Cullen’s gaze met her own. They were in the same boat, without proper direction now that they’d succeeded. Evelyn had her mark still, there were a few rifts yet to close, but once the Inquisition was officially ended, what would she do? Leliana would be the divine any day now. Josephine could continue to be an ambassador, surely Orlais would welcome her back at court. She and Cullen, well they would have to find something new to work for. To strive for. Could they do it together?

Evelyn blushed, looking away from Cullen altogether. It wasn’t the first time such an idea crossed her mind. The tension in the room was thick and Evelyn knew she had to call the meeting. Suddenly, the decision was not one she wanted to make.

“Let’s give it a rest then, for now,” she said. “It is just an idea, and a new one at that, so there’s need to give it thought. Sleep on it, and we can return to this topic tomorrow.”

“I agree,” Josephine said. “We should not wait too long, however. Some of these agreements can be delayed, the proper way, but we need an official stance.”

“And we will have one, once I am appointed.” Leliana smiled at Evelyn and Cullen suddenly, the kind that Evelyn usually recognized as mischievous. What was going on, she couldn’t say. It had been a long time since she and Cullen had any sort of color to their relationship. Leliana gave her the eye that said, I know what you’ve been doing.

Confused, tired and altogether worn out, Evelyn slumped against one of the stained glass windows insetad of trying to piece it out. Shutting her eyes and rubbing her temples, she said goodnight to Leliana and Josephine as they passed. Evelyn indulged herself the quiet room for a moment longer, breathing through her nose and trying to figure out what to do next. 

“Inquisi-- Evelyn?” She blinked foggily, realizing Cullen was still there. She hadn’t noticed until then, but he was missing his surcoat, and all of his armor. It was odd to see him without that fur about his shoulders. She couldn’t help but smirk, disbelieving she managed to miss him dressed down.

“What is it?” He looked around. “I didn’t do something foolish without knowing it, did I?”

“I’m just adjusting to you without your lion’s mane.”

“Yes, it does feel strange without it.”  

“Then why are you without it?”

He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, a tick for whenever he was nervous or unsure of what to say. Was she making him nervous?

“Someone may have drank too much and gotten sick on it last night.” Evelyn raised an eyebrow, and he laughed. “It really _wasn’t_ me, but now I see you think it must be.”

She felt brazen, realizing that now Corypheus was gone and the Inquisition had to end that there were no reasons for putting what she really wanted on hold. She’d basically fucked it up in the Western Approach after falling in and out of the fade, and really did understand if he couldn’t get past that. It was only months ago.

Months. It felt like years.

But that burning tension between them never went away though, no matter how much she told herself to concentrate on her role and stop looking at the handsome commander. The only reason she stopped before they even really started was because of her duty. That wasn't an issue now, not really. Evelyn had learned a thing or two from Marian Hawke, and were she still here, she would tell Evelyn to push for what she wanted, damn the consequences. Evelyn channeled Hawke now, red lips and sultry gaze. She put a bold hand on his chest. If he rebuffed her, she’d know. And she’d leave it alone for good. Regrets were for suckers. 

“No, I don’t think you’ve ever been truly devious enough for that in your whole life. Let me know if you’d like to change that, Cullen.”

She tried to look calm, but her heart was racing. If the situation was reversed and his hand laid upon her breast, he would realize she was mostly bluster. There was no reply to her words at first, and she thought maybe she’d gone too far. Surely someone as handsome as he was would have sought someone else ought for comfort. Maybe there was another woman who had been sick on his surcoat the night before.

She removed her hand and felt her cheek, to see if it was either flush or to slap herself awake. He stared off in the middle distance, a pinched expression she was altogether familiar with.

“ _Errm... sorryIdidn’trealizeyoudidntmyapologiesfortheoffense_.”

The mash of words flowed out of her too fast and too chipper to contemplate. Evelyn stepped out of his way and out of the room before she could embarrass herself further. She raced to her quarters, thanking Andraste that the private stairs to her room were only steps away. Evelyn could shut her door and simply melt into the floor, as humiliated as she was now.

 _No regrets_ , she thought bitterly. _Well I’m no Hawke; not everyone wants me._

Evelyn sprinted up the stairs, two at a time, and fled into bed, pulling the covers over her head and decided she would stay there forever. Now she had the answer alright. Grumbling to herself, she replayed the words in her head, cringing. She had sounded so casual and flippant, as if she was used to offering sex to men at random. It was not the case, only ever having been with her husband and... Rylen.

She threw her hands in front of her face and groaned. It’s not like she was proposing marriage here. But that was the problem from the start. For some reason Evelyn always felt like she was supposed to be head over heels in love in order to even think a suggestive thought about Cullen. She had no actual reasoning to justify the feeling, but by the way their first few interactions had gone and how he’d reacted to her admission about his second in command it pretty much cemented it as fact in her mind. Cullen clearly wanted more than a sexual fling. And while Evelyn felt like part of her was in love with him, the other half told her it was insane to even think it. They’d not even kissed. How could you be in love with someone without that?

A knock came at the door and she went to ground, piling blankets upon blankets over her stupid, senseless head. Whoever was there persisted, growing louder and more obnoxious.

“I know you wouldn’t want to miss out on spending time with me just because you made a _complete_ \--”

She jumped out of bed and pulled Dorian in the room before he could finish whatever asinine thing he was about to say.

“You heard." Evelyn sat on the edge of her bed and pulled her hair messily out of its braid. "How did you hear already? It just happened, Dorian."

“Oh this is too good. Heard about what?” He sidled up next to her. “I was merely teasing, Evee, hoping to suss out any good stories. It appears I have.”

She groaned and fell back, arms spread wide. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he told you about it.”

“Trouble in paradise?” She glared at him, then nudged his side with her knee. 

“I made a very miscalculated move earlier tonight. Remind me to never hit on the commander again.”

“You didn’t.”

“In the war room.”

Dorian smirked, and smoothed his mustache like the evil villain he was. “Really, that seems so... cliched. I’m insulted you’ve learned nothing from my wildly effective seduction techniques after all this time.”

“What, like staring at Bull’s muscles at the Herald’s Rest? Smooth.”

She caught him off guard and he let out a sharp bark of a laugh. “I like when you’re perturbed. What did Cullen do?”

“Nothing!” She leapt up at that, off the bed towards her dresser.  “I basically said, ‘be bad -- come fuck me anytime’ and no response. Not even a stammer. I think I have lost any shred of credibility and I definitely cannot look him in the eye again.” Her hands flew through dresser drawers looking for something more comfortable to wear. Decidedly, the rest of her life would be spent in shame under a thick duvet.

“Evee,” Dorian purred. “You do know he’s never,” he cleared his throat and tried on a ridiculous Ferelden accent, “mounted like a Marbari.”

She dropped the tunic she was holding back into the drawer. “First, that accent is terrible and please don’t do it again. Second that is a _terrible_ expression. And third, how do you know that?”

“Some find my charms irresistible.”

“Just because he didn’t fall for you doesn’t mean he’s never--” she gestured rudely -- “before.”

Dorian patted the bed and she reluctantly sat beside him. “That’s not what I meant, though not for a lack of trying. Evelyn, how much have you talked to our fair commander?” She was about to interrupt but he held up a finger. “And not about strategy or the weather or what an armpit Kirkwall really is in the summer.”

“I’ve never been to Kirkwall before.”

“Irrelevant. But maybe you were a bit too forward with the blushing beauty. You can be quite intimidating.”

She sighed and twisted the ends of her hair between her fingers. “I think I messed this one up, Dorian. Really, truly screwed the nug as it were. I had sex with his friend! Of course he’s not interested in the _used_ merchandise.” She collapsed against the bed.“I honestly don’t think I can speak to him again without bursting into flames.”

“Haven’t you been surprised at what you could do before? It was you that saved the world wasn’t it? I know I played a significant role, but I would have sworn a lanky, fashion-deprived brunette was there along my side at one point.”

She sighed, and sat up to rest her head on Dorian’s shoulder. “I will miss you terribly.”

“I know.” She made a little miffed sound and he gave leg a squeeze. “I’m not leaving just yet.”

At least there was that. Part of her wondered what Cullen was up to now, probably still shaking his head in disappointment of her odd behavior from before. They'd both agreed to leave it and now she gone and stirred the pot again, like an idiot. Evelyn still didn't think she could show her face again, but at the very least, Dorian was here. Being miserable and alone was far worse than being humiliated and having your closest companion there to ridicule you as well.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there's some stuff going on that is more hinted at in the related story, The Shelved Works of Varric Tethras. There Evelyn hints a bit more about not being with Cullen, why she wants to go to the Western Approach, etc. 
> 
> Well, no one is as smooth as Hawke though, right? :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the least organized I've ever been, but I have so much energy I need to finish. Next chapter will be nsfw.

Evelyn was gone. At some point between her proposition the night before and the standing afternoon meeting at the War Table she’d missed, the Inquisitor had fled Skyhold on her horse, alone. Cullen stared at the report on his desk, feeling as miserable as last evening after they’d talked. Perhaps worse, knowing exactly why Evelyn felt it necessary to evacuate without so much as a word to anyone.

He’d froze.

Cullen wasn’t proud of the fact; Evelyn had apparently forgotten their conversation on the wall, had jumped right into teasing him in a way she never tried before. Was she still drunk?

Maker’s Breath, the woman confused him. They’d decided together not to pursue a relationship, for the benefit of the Inquisition. While it crushed him more than he cared to admit, Evelyn moved on. She’d even found herself in another man’s arms when things were too difficult to bear. Rylen of all people.

Cullen sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. A headache was forming behind his eyes. He wanted to kiss her, that never changed, despite how well he attempted to hide his feelings. Some things cannot be simply agreed away. He never should have let her do it; to suggest that any budding feeling between them was detrimental to their duty, to seeing Corypheus stopped.

Hindsight was a dangerous thing, Cullen decided. It was easy to claim, after the battle had been won, that everything would have gone smoothly. In retrospect though, he really had been in no place to engage with Inquisitor in a relationship. But hadn’t he decided to try again two nights ago, sitting with Evelyn just outside of where he sat now? Why had he paused when she tried to flirt? Why did he let her run off?

_Let me know if you’d like to change that, Cullen._

Frustrated, he crumpled up the report about their missing leader and tossed it onto the floor. Drunk Evelyn was silly, sentimental. Normal Evelyn was wickedly quick with words, impatient, but kind. The Evelyn yesterday was oddly forward and he couldn’t help but think about how _it_ must have happened, at Griffon Wing Keep. Even though he told himself that her other relationships didn’t matter. _It did._ Cullen’s insides burned every time he spoke with either one of them, though of course, a one-night fling didn’t affect his respect for either Evelyn or Rylen. It just wounded his stupid pride. And maybe his lonesome heart.

Cullen jerked out of his chair and sought the paper he’d thrown in angst. There’d been some clarification within about where a scout had seen her last. Perhaps this was a chance to find her, to bring her back home and, and... and what?

It didn’t matter. He would find Evelyn before she did anything too stupid. Maker knew she was prone to acting rashly. At the very least he could do that.

  
The report said she was headed to the Hinterlands. A brief detour with a scout returning to Skyhold said the Inquisitor was spotted near Redcliff, braid flapping behind her in haste. Cullen headed to the town in record pace, only a few hours after departing Skyhold.  After searching the Gull and Lantern and sending a few inquiries with scouts in the town, he came up empty. He lead Destrier to a trough to drink, and patted the horse’s side while he considered what else he knew that could help trace her down.

He searched his memory for the day prior. Outside of not taking her offer seriously, they’d just talked about what was next for the Inquisition. At the war table she’d seemed upset, despondent. She was concerned about Leliana leaving too soon, but that hardly added up to anything location-specific. He couldn't recall anything more detailed, and switched tracks. What was in the area? The outskirts were nearby, Dennet’s farm, maybe Lake Luthias. Destrier stomped a hoof, full up on water. The horse was as eager to move as Cullen was, but to where?

Maker’s balls, where did Evelyn disappear to? He needed a plan. A plan was smart, a plan was comforting. This foolhardy expedition was neither. The Inquisitor usually eschewed planning, letting Cullen and the others devise the strategy. What Evelyn sought was results -- give her the tools and she would solve anything, through ingenuity and charm, making it all up as she went along.

Like a flash of lightning, he understood the folly of his quest. Evelyn didn’t even likely know where she was going, how could he possibly anticipate where she was headed? It was best to set back on the trail and go forth and look for trouble. Wherever she was, it was likely to follow.

Cullen mounted his horse, set a respectable pace through Redcliff, then dug his heels into Destrier’s side once they passed the gates. He went south, the last account of Evelyn as far as he knew, and kept his eye out for danger.

He was drawn to Redcliff Farms. The route seemed clear, he respected Dennet, and there really wasn’t much else but a feeling. If Evelyn needed a place to stop for the night, as it was already getting dark, there was a camp at the top of a hill. It was near a small river, with a waterfall. That much he remembered from the map.

Cullen rode up to the river’s edge, Destrier prancing back and forth not wanting to cross. There were horse tracks in the mud already, though this was a place of high traffic for those working the farm. He looked down the bank, searching for Maker knows what. A plucky woman with shining Silverite blades?

He suppressed a sigh and hoped for better luck at the camp. They picked their way through the shallows, cautious of the muck. Suddenly, a crack of ice blasted past his face. Cullen looked to where it came from, eyes squinting in the dim twilight. Another shard of magic rushed by, Cullen narrowly leaning out of the way. Dismounting, he pulled the horse back, out of the line of attack and behind a small rise. The demon, for it was a despair demon, followed his path, turning around the sharp corner just as Cullen pulled out his blade.

Despair demons were awful things. They turned humans into shells of themselves, frightful and downtrodden. Cullen had seen enough of them in his time in Kirkwall, the wretched creatures thrived in Darktown, siphoning off hopes and dreams and turning their victims into a perpetual source of food. It was nearly impossible to claw yourself out of the mud, Cullen was living testament to how hard it was. Others, like Samson, he thought bitterly, were not so lucky.

The demon shot a spike of ice at his head. For once, Cullen did not have a shield. He rolled out of the way instead, coming up close in the demon’s reach. It fled away, into the wall of rock across the river. Dodging magical ice and gritting his teeth, Cullen sped over to the creature, water licking up his thighs. While he didn’t regret his old templar abilities in the slightest, the power to dispel magic would have made the task much easier.

He caught it against the rock, slicing his blade across the shabby black robes draped from its wrinkled form. The demon hissed, raised its large limbs to attack, and Cullen swung again, catching one of its arms and chopping it clean off. Enraged, but still with sense, the demon flew beyond Cullen’s reach, towards the waterfall. He followed it, hoping to see this end soon. Crossing the river again, he nearly tripped midway on a log. Cullen looked down, watching his feet, and to his horror, realized it was no fallen tree limb. The Inquisitor -- _Evelyn_ \-- was sprawled along the ground, half frozen to the touch and unresponsive. She was on her side, head cushioned by a rock, thankfully keeping her from drowning.

Sharp ice bit into his shoulder and Cullen knelt down, using his sword for leverage. The damn demon could wait. If there was pain he didn’t notice it, rather felt his heart beating out of his chest, a rush of power flowing through him. Cullen put away his sword, then picked Evelyn up, scooping his arms underneath her, a flood of water cascading down his chest. The despair demon grew closer again, braver. He shouted for Destrier, and the horse came quickly, unafraid of demons at this point in his career as an Inquisition war horse. Cullen lifted Evelyn to the horse’s back, grunting from effort. Evelyn was tall, nearly as tall as him, and quite solid. She and Cassandra were quite the pair together on the field.

Being nearly frozen, it was hard to maneuver her. “Maker,  you’re not helping.” He doubted she’d enjoy the honesty, but he was trying to save her life. Another spike of ice caught his back and this time it hurt, sharp like the prick of a knife against his spine. Once Evelyn was in place, more or less slumped before the saddle, Cullen leapt on, wincing as his back gave him grief. The camp was just up the hill. There’d be potions there, maybe even a healer.

Destrier didn’t need any directions, he galloped off, charging the hill and carrying them out of harm’s way.

 

Evelyn slept peacefully, still not conscious, but no longer in a state of thaw. Cullen rested beside her cot on a low stool, head in his hands. There was not a local healer nearby, but the scouts had plenty of potions in their supplies, and they were able to open her mouth just enough to make her drink. It still was agonizing, watching her so unresponsive, her hands so cold, that Cullen hadn’t slept all night. If he would have lost her because he didn’t know what to say before...

“Cullen?” she whispered. He turned to look at the sound. A quick shot of relief ran through him at her open eyes, her confused daze. He wanted to kiss her; he wanted to kill her.

“What could you possibly have been thinking?” He grabbed the edge of the cot, knuckles turning white. “That was an entirely senseless thing to do. For you to survive Haven, walk out of the fade at --” he swallowed the word he was thinking of --”to defeat Corypheus, but be slain like this? You nearly died.” She blinked, tears spilling down her cheeks. His stomach was fire, sheer torturous pain at the sight of her crying. Before he could apologize, she steepled her hands before her face, pinching her nose.

“I fucked up, okay?” She drew a deep, ragged breath. “I’m quite good at it, you know. My mother would call it a talent.”

Of course he was annoyed that she’d ran off and nearly killed herself in the process, but she _was_ alive. “Evelyn,” he said. “Please, don’t do that again.” She nodded, lowering her hands and rubbing palm with a thumb. They were silent for a long minute, both calming down. The tangled braid she wore was still damp from the water, pieces of hair falling out of line and framing her impossibly lovely face. Cullen wanted to touch her again, to tug her into a safe, warm hold. Surely she was still cold.

She spoke at last, voice uneven. “I’m sorry, Cullen. All I’ve done is make you miserable, I don’t--”

“--why did you come here?” He didn’t want her fixated on him, to make this all about them. It was selfish, but he needed time to see her breathing, let her return to her normal mischievous, impetuous self before any real discussions. “Why the farm, I mean.”

She furrowed her brow, trying to remember. “Dorian told me it would be better in the morning if I just slept it off, but it wasn’t. It was worse. I-- was such an idiot, I couldn’t see you at the War Table, couldn’t talk to you about what we’re going to do about troops or scouts or argue about positions on the board, I just took off, and it was here. I thought maybe I should do something about the rifts we’d never closed and this one always, always pissed me off.” She took a deep breath, finally catching up with her mouth. “But I tried to do it myself and my horse spooked and I killed most of them, but that didn’t--” her eyes widened, horrified-- “and then it found me before I could close the rift. The demon, it took away everything and then I laid down, for some reason. In the middle of the river. And it kept taking and taking and--”

“Evelyn, stop.” He didn’t realize how affected she’d been by the demon. A hot, heavy guilt flattened his chest. She’d been despairing to begin with, a perfect victim.

“--and I saw what I did to you, and how lonely it would be in Skyhold when everyone left to go back to their lives. Everyone left, everyone, especially you--”

“I’m not leaving.” He leaned over, grabbing her shoulders, and kissed her rapidly firing mouth. Evelyn squeaked weakly, not expecting it. She was still chilled, and he backed off immediately, taking his surcoat and laying it over her, tucking it about her body. The fur of his collar surrounded her face, and she looked content for a moment, swaddled in his coat.

As if her brain was still thawing, and maybe it was, Evelyn slipped a hand from out of the cocoon of blankets and coat, and touched her mouth. “You kissed me.”

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “I did.”

She shifted to her side, the mass of blankets making it difficult to maneuver. They locked eyes, brown on brown. Her brow furrowed, little lines across her forehead and at the corner of her beautiful, wide eyes. Cullen wanted to smooth them away.

“I’m so sorry, Cullen. I ruined everything between us because I was scared of failing and I’m still scared.” Bitter tears fell down again and she cradled her head in a hand, wrapping the other around her chest. The demon’s hold had been deep, everything was still to be doubted it seemed.

“Evelyn, don’t apologize. I-- you need to sleep.” He needed to sleep. Especially before this conversation took place. “The despair demon is still affecting you. It will be better tomorrow.”

“Dorian said that too. No, you’ll leave and then I’ll just stay under these blankets forever--”

“--As I said before, I’m not leaving.” He reached out, rested a hand on the back of her neck. Rubbing her there, he slumped off the stool and onto the tent floor. Cullen would sleep upright if he had to, but Evelyn would not feel alone. It would be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I have named Cullen's horse essentially "war horse." You know, I wouldn't put it past him. 
> 
> Despair demons though. I tell you, that rift outside of Redcliff Farms camp Is. The. Worst.


End file.
